


So We Just Hold On Fast (Acknowledge the Past)

by CaroltheQueen (always_1895)



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Dad!Kane, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Post-Season/Series 03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-01
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-07-11 16:35:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7060582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/always_1895/pseuds/CaroltheQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ALIE Aftermath (as Jasper Jordan had taken to calling it) was a mess of devastation.</p>
<p>Mostly written pre-3x13, and based on the promo for that episode, Marcus struggles to reach Abby when she's consumed by guilt about what she did under the chip's influence. Set post-season 3. </p>
<p>Title from 'Eric's Song' by Vienna Teng.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So We Just Hold On Fast (Acknowledge the Past)

The ALIE Aftermath (as Jasper Jordan had taken to calling it) was a mess of devastation. In the mass suicide attempt, the City of Light had taken hundreds of souls with it upon it’s destruction, and those left behind were traumatised and wounded beyond count. Which was how Abby was avoiding him, Marcus knew. She’d taken charge of the few healers Polis had left, and set to work in both organising a medical station in the city centre, and treating those who needed it. There had been the moment she had awoken and looked at him from where she had sat wrapped in her daughter’s arms, her eyes full of guilt, love, regret, relief, and horror. Her face had crumpled then and Marcus had run to her, knowing how she must be remembering and seeing it all again, through a mind that was truly her own once more. Clarke had silently and gently eased away to let him take her place, and Abby had sobbed broken apologies and self recriminations into his chest, whilst he breathed her in and stroked her hair and tried to tell her she had nothing to be sorry for, it was all over, “it wasn’t you, it wasn’t you, _it wasn’t you _.”__

But after that, when the tears finally stopped, she couldn’t look at him. Most definitely couldn’t look at the bandages wrapped around his wrists, or how he could barely move his hands, even as he reached for her again. Abby pulled away and made excuses about washing up, finding Clarke, finding Raven. Three days had passed and she’d barely spoken a word to him, and even then only by necessity in passing. She had thrown herself into doctor mode, and Marcus could only watch from a distance, when he had a rare moment free to check up on her. As it was, with struggling to rebuild some semblance of society in the wreckage of what remained, he spent much more time with Clarke, and asked her, instead, to make sure her mother had eaten every now and then. To try and get her to sleep. Clarke would give him a look, and he wasn’t sure if it was more accusatory or sadness, but said nothing.

When Marcus sought out medical treatment himself, he saw Jackson, who carried his own constant look of guilt and sorrow as he went about checking the stitches in Marcus’ healing wrists and the range of movement in his hands. But Marcus made sure every time to look the younger man in the eye, give him a soft smile, and thank him for his help.

The City of Light was gone, but so far Abby Griffin had not returned to him. Marcus would give her her space, if that’s what she needed, but he’d be damned if he was going to let her sit and stew in her own self-hatred and blame for much longer. Marcus knew how that all went after all, he’d been there, and he’d left her with scars too. If she couldn’t stand the sight of him, if she’d changed her mind about whatever it was they’d started back in Arkadia, she could look the man who loved her in the eye and tell him herself.

Because he did love her, that much he was sure of, as he approached Clarke after another meeting of their rag-tag group of leaders drew to a close one evening, and asked for her help in getting Abby alone so he could finally speak to her for longer than five seconds. It wasn’t that he wanted to trap her, it was just that Abby had gotten exceptionally good at not being wherever he was over the last few days. Clarke actually rolled her eyes at him.

“It’s about time. Any longer and I was going to lock you both in a room somewhere.”

If asked, Marcus would tell you he absolutely did not splutter in response, “W-what?”

“Actually Raven said that.” Clarke nodded as a well timed Raven passed by them on her way out.

“ _Actually _, what I said was they should fight it out or fuck it out.”__

Clarke winced, “I really didn’t need to hear that again.”

“You’re welcome!” Raven called cheerfully over her shoulder.

Marcus was struggling to tear his brain away from the images that Raven’s words had conjured up, even though that had in fact been the last thing on his mind. He felt the need to say so.

“That’s not… I’m not trying to… Clarke, I just want her to be okay.”

Clarke had looked amused at his flustering, but then she softened into a look of sadness.

“Good. Because she’s not.”

His chest tightened at that, and Marcus had to swallow down a sudden lump of emotion, “She told you that?”

“She’s my mom, she doesn’t have to. She’s miserable, she’s hurting, and she misses you. And I know that because that’s how I felt when I was running away from the worst thing I’d ever done. I left everyone I loved behind, because I couldn’t look at them.”

Clarke’s eyes were wet, and Marcus wondered if they were both about to start crying. He felt the overwhelming need to put his arms around her. This strong, brave young woman in front of him, who had borne so much more suffering and hardship and responsibility than she should ever have had to; who had so much of Abby in her, Marcus couldn’t help but love her.

“She cries in her sleep, sometimes. Sometimes she’ll keep crying when she wakes up and she thinks I’m asleep. She says my name… Yours, too. That she’s sorry.” Clarke’s voice broke with those last few words, and something in Marcus broke too, for he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to her, first with a hand on her shoulder, then, when she didn’t resist, he pulled her into a hug. He felt those tears threatening to fall again when Clarke hugged him back.

“Please help her.” Clarke murmured, voice thick, “You were there for her all that time I was away. You were there before that, I know. I’ve been trying, but there’s so much between us, now. We’re not the people we used to be, and we went through our own separate hells.”

“I’m sorry,” He felt a a pang of guilt, “I shouldn’t have put it all on you.”

“No, I get it, you thought you were giving her what she wants.” Clarke drew back, “But she wants you.”

Marcus didn’t know what to say, though God, how he hoped she was right. Clarke was still the girl who had lost her father less than two years ago, though the Ark felt like a whole different lifetime in many ways. Even with that statement, Marcus couldn’t tell how Clarke really felt about the idea of her mother being with another man, especially when he was that man. He still didn’t know how much Jake Griffin’s ghost hung between all three of them. He looked up to find Clarke staring at him intently.

“We’re not the people we used to be.” She repeated, her eyes were kind. Then, with a nod, she moved towards the door. “Be in our quarters in two hours. I’ll get mom there.”

  
  


Marcus had been staring at the door in front of him for five minutes. He’d practically raced to Abby and Clarke’s room once the time had come around, but had slowed to a halt upon arrival. It felt like all of his drive and determination to reach Abby had fled in the wake of the knowledge that as soon as she saw him, she would no doubt make every effort to leave. He wanted to believe she was doing it for the reasons Clarke had asserted, but it still hurt every damn time. Marcus took a deep breath, then quietly pushed the door open.

His eyes fell upon Abby immediately, though hers didn’t find him, they were closed. She was curled up in the middle of one of the beds, legs folded up, arms wrapped around her waist, head tucked down towards her chest. She didn’t have any shoes on. Marcus wasn’t sure why he had zeroed in on that detail, but it somehow made her seem more vulnerable. She looked so small. She looked like she was trying to hold herself together. All Marcus could do for a moment was look at her, his heart aching to cross the room and gather her up, hold her against his chest, wrap himself around her and keep her safe. He wondered if she sensed his presence somehow, because suddenly her whole body went rigid and she opened her eyes. Eyes that filled with panic as soon as she spotted him, like a deer caught in headlights, and she pushed herself up into a sitting position.

“Marcus, how long have you been standing there?” He knew she was trying to sound affronted, but all he could hear was the tiredness in her voice.

“I just came in,” he murmured, inching forward, “I wasn’t sure if you were asleep.”

Abby swung her legs over the edge of the bed, making to put her boots back on, using the distraction to avoid looking at him. “Clarke convinced me to lie down for a moment. Moment’s over.”

“Abby…” His legs moved, it seemed, without his permission and then he was in front of her, closer than he’d been since he’d had her in his arms. Abby looked up, abandoning her task, and she visibly flinched when, from her sitting position, the first things she saw were his bare wrists, healing wounds exposed to the air and her sight. Marcus had purposely left off the bandages for the first time, had left his jacket behind in his room. He needed to push her to face the source of the emotional minefield that now lay between them. He would carry the scars for the rest of his life, and keeping them covered now would only allow them both to better hide from the reality of what they went through. What they had to confront.

She stood then, looking somewhere over his shoulder. “Marcus, I have patients.”

“No, we’re not doing this anymore.”

“I don’t have time for-”

“Clarke made time. I asked her to.” There was a tightening in her jaw at the mention of Clarke.

“I don’t need you two conspiring behind my back.”

“That’s not-! Abby, will you _look _at me?” She finally met his gaze, and there was a little of that fire and defiance back in it that had been absent for far too long. “Clarke and I… We both just want to help you, Abby. We want you back.”__

She frowned, “I’m right here.”

“You haven’t been.” He steeled himself, then murmured softly, “I miss you.” He saw her face soften and felt encouraged, stepping forward again into her personal space. She was staring at his chest again, though, so Marcus hooked a gentle finger under her chin and tilted her head to look into her eyes. She didn’t resist, she even seemed to shiver a little at the small touch. “You’re pulling away. And I understand, I know-”

“No, you don’t know! You can’t possibly know!” Pain and anger bubbled up so suddenly, flashing across her face, as she wrenched herself away from him again, turning her back and putting her hands on the bed, bracing herself. “Neither you nor Clarke know… What I did to you? What I could’ve done to her?” Her voice was trembling now, and as much as Marcus hated to see her in pain, to make her go through this again, the fact that she was finally starting to talk about it gave him hope that maybe they could come through the other side of this.

Cautiously he stepped up close behind her, hands moving to her upper arms and tugging her to face him. She resisted for a moment, before a sob escaped her and all the fight seemed to drain out of her. When he got her to turn, her eyes were screwed shut, her face contorted in an expression of pure pain and regret. Marcus tightened his hold on her, desperate to make her believe his next words.

“But it wasn’t you. I know you think you should’ve resisted the chip, fought harder, found a way to not have taken it in the first place, but you saved Raven, Abby. Because that’s what you do, you save people. You do everything in your power to take away their pain, you don’t inflict it. _It wasn’t you _.”__

“I never wanted to hurt you. Hurting you, or Clarke, that’s the last thing I…”

“I know.”

“You don’t know…” She murmured again, seeming to curl in on herself and away from him.

“Okay then, here’s what _you _should know.” His love for her was a fierce bloom in his chest, and Marcus took her face in his hands, thumbs catching the tears that fell when she opened her eyes wide in surprise. “I’m not going to give up on you. I’m not going to stop fighting for us. We’re in this together, remember? You and me. If you want me to leave. If you want me to stop trying… You’ll have to tell me to. You’ll have to tell me that there is no us.”__

There. She was looking up at him now the way she had looked at him the night before his execution. Her face was open and vulnerable, full of undisguised love and need. Her hands went to his chest, fingers curling into the worn cotton of his shirt. Before, he couldn’t let himself get lost in that look because he knew it would be both their undoing. Now, he soaked it all in greedily, her gaze, her touch, her presence. And in return he wanted to show her how much he meant his words, to never give her cause to doubt how much she meant to him ever again. He wanted to kiss her again and bring that same small hopeful smile to her lips that she had given him before, eyes bright and shining. She’d believed in them then. Her faith that they would find their way back to each other was the only thing that gave him strength enough to let her go. He needed to bring that back.

“I don’t want to lose you…” she started.

“Hey, you haven’t -”

“I just don’t understand how you can stand to look at me. I don’t understand how you could…” _love me _, lingered on the air, unspoken.__

“Because when…” he paused, unsure how to word it, “When it was happening, I saw your eyes, Abby. Those were your eyes, but you weren’t behind them. In all the years we’ve known each other, you’ve looked at me in so many ways, but never like that. Never indifference.” She was hanging on his words now, eyes wide. Marcus smiled, stroking her cheek. “You’ve looked at me like you wanted nothing better than to strangle me…” She gave a choked laugh at that, a small smile through fresh tears, and his heart soared. “The way you’re looking at me now is a vast improvement, I have to say.”

Another wet laugh at what he considered to be the biggest understatement he’d ever made. His heart felt ready to burst in his chest, to have her smiling and looking at him in what he could only describe as adoration. Then she did something that took his breath away, and he was utterly gone.

She brought her hands up to where his still held her face, and gently, oh so gently, covered them. Then she turned her head and pressed the softest of kisses next to the stitched up wound on his wrist. Marcus managed to swallow down the sob in his throat threatening to escape, but the tears had quickly welled up and spilled over as he watched Abby repeat the process with his other hand. She looked up at him again, tearful smiles mirroring each other, and Marcus bowed his head to press his forehead to hers, just as she had done a little over a week and an eternity ago.

She was carding her fingers through his hair again, and it felt soothing and intimate. He felt fresh tears that had made their way down her cheeks and onto his hands, but instinctively knew that these were no longer tears of pain and guilt, and that she was simply overwhelmed, just as he was. They both took a deep breath and sighed at the same time, then laughed quietly at themselves.

“Look at us.” Marcus murmured, and Abby did indeed pull back enough to look at him and wipe the wetness from his cheeks.

“We’re ridiculous.” She sniffed, “I hope Clarke doesn’t come in to see us crying all over each other.”

“Clarke probably locked us in here, to be honest.” Abby frowned questioningly. “Don’t ask.”

She didn’t pursue it, just gave a small rueful smile that he felt pang somewhere in his chest, at the thought that she felt apologetic or shy about anything that had just occurred between them.

She sighed, “Marcus, I’m so tired.”

She stepped into his already waiting arms and her whole body seemed to sink against him until it almost felt like he was he only thing keeping her upright.

“I know, sweetheart.” Marcus murmured into her hair. “You should sleep.”

“I can’t. Every time I close my eyes, I see it all over again. I hear you… screaming.” Her voice was strained again, muffled against his neck.

“Sshh, okay. It’s okay, I’m here. Don’t think about that again.” He felt her nod. “What can I do?”

“Stay.” she whispered, “Just stay and hold me. Please?”

He pulled back and kissed her forehead, “Always.”

He kept a hold of her as they shuffled over to her bed, unwilling to break contact but also seeing how her exhaustion had crashed down upon her, leaving her shaking and unsteady. Abby practically collapsed onto the mattress, and he took only a moment to remove his boots before gathering her up in his arms again, just as he’d wanted to do when he’d first laid eyes on her that evening. In return Abby clung to him, her rock in the storm, and tucked her head under his, lips a whisper of pressure against his throat. Marcus silently thanked God or anyone that might be listening that she was letting him do this. That she wanted him to. That she had finally let him back in so that they could both start healing together.

He would hold on as long as she needed him to.


End file.
